August 2nd — morning washed past unnoticed, the alarm dismissed or never heard, sunlight already pooling golden across the floorboards when I finally stirred. No rush to remedy it. No guilt, either. Just the soft stretch of limbs and the rumble of a hungry cat beside me, kneading the blanket like she was trying to start a fire.

Stayed in, mostly. Let the outside world whirl on without me. It can do that sometimes — spin its errands and alerts, calls and clicks — while I remain in sanctuary. A thick book in hand, the one with the creased spine and the smell of old paper. Stories folded in like origami secrets, each page a quiet hour.

Cat got her zoomies around noon. Dashed from one end of the apartment to the other like a tiny lion with invisible prey. He’s learned how to open cabinet doors, now. Keeps trying to break into the snacks — smart paws, soft menace.

Shared a little tuna as a peace offering. Sge forgave the late breakfast.

No mail worth mentioning. No visitors. Just the wind at the window and the occasional creak of a settling building. Sometimes, the best days don’t go anywhere. They just hold still and let you breathe.